The Day After
by Universe
Summary: My world comes back into focus. Light from the sun biting my eyelids. Morning's here again. The first day of my life without Piccolo.


Song credit: My favorite song in the world - _Here With Me_, by Dido.   
  


**The Day After**

Sleep always was the best escape from everything. Once I fall asleep I can hide away in my own little dreamland. Deep sleep...beyond dreaming...is an even safer place. A void of non-feeling that dances just above death. 

...death...stole my best friend. He won't be there when I wake up. There won't be any breathing sounds or the rustle of him turning over. No moans, mutters or sighs. I don't want to face that. 

But I have to. I promised him I'd be there for Doramu. His last legacy. 

My world comes back into focus. Light from the sun biting my eyelids. Morning's here again. The first day of my life without Piccolo. Is this even life? I don't feel anything. It's blank, like I'm in a void. 

I'd sleep longer, but my eyes won't stay closed anymore. My body's way of saying it's had enough rest for awhile. But I don't want to get up. I don't want food, I don't want water, I don't want to change Doramu's diaper and I don't want to talk to my mom. I don't want to face life without Piccolo. 

It's so quiet. Too quiet. 

_I didn't hear you leave_   
_I wonder how am I still here_. 

I turn over so I'm facing the sun. In the glare I see Piccolo's bed. A bed just as empty of him as his body was after he died. Like him, it seems smaller, more fragile, without its occupant. A butterfly's vacated chrysalis. 

The sheets are still disheveled, the pillow imprinted with the shape of his bald green head. I climb off my bed, move over and lay down on Piccolo's. Carefully so I don't disturb anything. 

_I don't want to move a thing_   
_it might change my memory_. 

His scent is still here, he smelled like ground cloves. I swear a small hint of his warmth still resides deep in the linen. That's all his last breath was, you know...warmth. I never heard it, I didn't even realize he was gone until I saw his chest had stopped moving. He was so still after that. 

And then I watched his statuesque corpse vanish into fire. By now his ashes are blowing into the same valley where he trained me as a child. From dust he came and to dust he returned. 

Most of the world remembers him as a monster. Especially those who knew him before I was born. It must've been so hard for him to live every day with those memories stuck in his head, especially after he gave up his quest to conquer the world. 

Not me...not ever. Piccolo was my life. My guide, my teacher, my protector....the father I never really had. 

Why did he leave me? 

_oh I am what I am_   
_I'll do what I want_   
_but I can't hide_. 

I move off the bed and stare out the window with bleary eyes. Something dark twists the pit of my stomach. I clutch the windowsill until my knuckles turn white and the wood groans in protest. 

"I hate you..." these words leap off my tongue on their own accord. "You got it easy. I'm the one hurting. You...you just left! You knew how much I needed you and you _left_! You promised you'd always be there for me...where are you now? Dead...you died on me. You liar, you're a hypocrite, you know that? You're a liar because you died!" 

A flash of white flickers in the corner of my eye. Over by the edge of the house. Piccolo? 

For a moment I picture him standing at the front door - arms crossed and eyes fierce, cape billowing in the wind. 

_I won't go_   
_I won't sleep_   
_I can't breathe_   
_until you're resting_   
_here with me_. 

I vault out the window and race towards him. "Piccolo!" 

The flapping material is only a few feet away. I skid to a halt by the front of the house. 

It's just a white blanket mom hung up to dry. Its softness encircles me in scents of bleach and wildflowers. The wind steals it off the line, I have to chase it into the trees. 

Then come the tears...always tears. God, will I ever stop crying for him? Will I ever stop missing and needing him? Will this wound in my soul quit bleeding? 

_I won't leave_   
_I can't hide_   
_I cannot be_   
_until you're resting_   
_here with me_. 

No. Dammit, Piccolo! You were supposed to be the best man in my wedding when I finally get married. You were supposed to be the one that huffs at all the sentimentality when I show you my firstborn child. You were supposed to be there, period! You cheated me, you green bastard! 

No... 

"...It's not your fault, you didn't know you were sick. I should've sent you to the doctor sooner." I say aloud as I grasp the blanket in my fist and press my cheek to its warmth. What I would give to have his graceful fingers comb through my hair and calm me down. He rarely did that for me, but when he did I savored every moment of his brief softness. 

During our last conversation, I distinctly remember how he reached up and touched my face. Piccolo never did things like that. His fingers were soft against my cheek. I easily recall how gently he held my face in his palm. As if taking a last look at me. His eyes were softer than they'd ever been...a difference as profound as steel compared to velvet. He'd lifted those emotional shutters and let me see into him. The softness never went away. Then we tasted each others' tears, gave one another a part of ourselves. 

He died fifteen minutes later. 

_I don't want to_   
_call my friends_   
_they might wake me_   
_from this dream._

"I'm sorry, Piccolo....I didn't mean it, I don't hate you....I love you. I love you, my friend...I -" 

Wind makes a branch slap me in the face. Piccolo's way of saying he 'loves' me too. 

And I just miss him more. 

_And I can't leave this bed_   
_risk forgetting all that's been_. 

Can you believe that he tried to get up and walk less than twenty four hours before he died? Only Piccolo could manage to be so strong while so weak. I found him on the ground outside, confused and saying he wanted to go home. I'll never forget the sight of him curled up like a baby, gaunt cheek pressed to the grass, but it was wonderful to share that last sunrise with him. Even then he taught me amazing things about myself and him. 

Wherever you are, Piccolo, I'm sure there's always a sun rising just for you. 

_oh I am what I am_   
_I'll do what I want_   
_but I can't hide_. 

"Gohan, breakfast!" Mom calls from the kitchen, "Hurry up out there, will you?" 

"...coming!" I call back. 

It only takes me a minute to return the blanket, go to the bathroom and wash up for breakfast. I'm really not hungry...I barely eat one plate of eggs, bacon and pancakes. Mom gives me a knowing look. Our eyes tear up simultaneously. She reaches across the table and places her hand on top of mine. 

_I won't go_   
_won't sleep_   
_I can't breathe_   
_until you're resting_   
_here with me_

We cry together. Doramu must think we're psycho. He's staring at us. Then he looks away, his eyes following something outside. Slurping contentedly on his bottle of water while mom and I sniffle and sob. 

...will this pain ever end? 

_I won't leave_   
_I can't hide_   
_I cannot be_   
_until you're resting_   
_here _- 

"You're the reason Piccolo was able to feel love, Gohan...he told me. He told me to wait until after he died to tell you...." Mom meets my gaze, eyes faraway and misty. "That year when he took you away to train, he said he never expected to start caring about you. You were supposed to be a weapon...but you stopped being afraid of him. You talked to him. Treated him like a friend rather than a monster. It took your kindness to make him admit he was lonely...and...he said he's sorry to leave you like this." Mom squeezes my hand when I tear up, "You saved him from himself, Gohan. Because of you he could put those memories from his father to rest for good. And now he can have peace. He's not in Hell, I just know it...he's somewhere safe and he's watching over you and Doramu." 

Somewhere safe. What would Piccolo's version of Heaven look like? 

I frown and pull my hand from hers. "That's supposed to make me feel better? I want him _here!_" As I pointed to the ground where I stood, "I want him with me! It's not fair! Why did he have to die? Just tell me why!" 

_I won't go_   
_won't sleep_   
_I can't breathe_   
_until you're resting_   
_here with me_. 

I stare into my mother's eyes, searching her. For what? She doesn't have answers. Piccolo does, and I can't talk to him anymore. I miss his voice the most...it was soft and raspy. Oddly comforting until he used it to snap at me. 

Mom sniffs, "I can't answer that, Gohan. These things happen. I'm so sorry." 

She reaches for me. I pull away. 

_Sorry_ won't bring him back. _Sorry_ won't make it hurt any less. _Sorry_ never solved anything. 

_I won't leave_   
_I can't hide_   
_I cannot be_   
_until you're resting_   
_here with me_... 

But my mom is right. These things happen. It just feels so unfair. 

Piccolo...you saved me, too. I used to be such a wimp. Crying at everything. Heh, I'm crying now. Crying for you because you're not here with me anymore. I know you'd tell me to shut up and quit blubbering. Can't help it...I just want to talk to you again. I want to feel you, hear you, smell you...anything...even if it's just for a minute. There's still so much to say...so much I'll never get to say. So much I'll never get to hear you say. 

Where do I go from here, Piccolo? How do I survive the rest of my life? 


End file.
